After a brief illness-induced hiatus I took myself off for a run again this morning. It was a long, slow, lumbering struggle at times.  However at other times it was great, it seems to depend on the music I am listening to. I seem to be quite a conflicted runner in this regard.

I have always assumed that I am not particularly good at running but my musical choices seem to very much dictate my ability and my enthusiasm. I have tried running without music but all I can hear is my own heavy laboured breathing, and I become fearful that I may be on the brink of cardiac arrest. I have tried running with other people, ‘chatting’ whilst running, but it has been a flawed plan from the start as I cannot breathe, run and chat all at the same time.  It is the most exhausting form of multitasking. I can be chatted at, but still, the sound of my own heavy breathing pretty much drowns out any conversation.

So I have decided that I am best off running alone, an anti-social form of exercise with my headphones in. If I try to be social then I get antsy – it’s a bit like being in labour, I get all sweary and angry if anyone tries to mess with me or to distract me from my routine. Instead running alone gives me some much-needed head space and time to think and reflect, time to clear my head.

It’s odd in a way that I keep pushing myself to run if I feel that it’s something that I am not particularly good at. Generally my exercise routine consists of things that I love, where I am having so much fun that I don’t even notice that I am exercising. But I want to be able to be a runner, regardless of any natural ability. I see people outside who look like they are flying and I want to be one of them. I want to return home, exhilarated, happily stretching my hamstrings whilst basking in the glow of a run well raced. I wonder if I am as deluded as those people who audition on The X-Factor despite having no ability to sing. I always wonder “have they not heard themselves? Really?” I can’t sing either but I know that I sound like a bag of cats, I can hear myself. Even a rendition of Happy Birthday seems to be out of tune.

However I do have good days. I do have days where I have a great run, I feel liberated and exhilarated, energised and enthused. I think I get disappointed when this doesn’t happen every time and I perceive this as a failure on my part somehow. I can’t see into the minds of the runners racing past me, perhaps they have the same doubts and face the same challenges as I do? Perhaps we all have days where our legs feel like lead but maintain confidence that another day will be better?

I’ve noticed that I run particularly well to 80s music. I notice my pace pick up, my mood improve, a sweaty smile creeps across my face. It seems that Wham does indeed put the boom boom into my heart. I’ll be lost in my thoughts on a run and then “ooh, Whitney” and I feel that I do indeed want to dance with somebody. So perhaps I am not as bad a runner as I once thought. Perhaps I am actually quite a good runner after all – it’s just that I am running in the wrong decade!